69
Morning sunlight spread white across the rear courtyard.At the center of the yard, where the ice had not yet fully melted, Yi In-jung stood with his sword in hand.Each breath he released burst into white vapor, and on the sword tip rested the light of a newly awakened dawn.
Park Seong-jin stood by the doorway watching for a long while—until his gaze was noticed.
"What are you staring at?"
Yi In-jung said as he sheathed his blade.
Park Seong-jin smiled awkwardly and bowed his head.
"I was watching you study, sir."
"It's all the same. Joseon sword forms."
"No, it isn't."
Park Seong-jin hesitated, then continued.
"It's the same forms… but something is different. I've been trying to find out what."
Yi In-jung looked at him for a moment, then planted the sword upright in the ground.As the blade stood straight in the snow, even the surrounding air seemed to settle.
"Breathing," he said. "The breathing is different. It's called Heup–Ji–Pa (inhale–pause–release)."
He spoke slowly.
"Heup is drawing in.Ji is stopping.Pa is releasing.
When you perform the sword, these three rotate in turn. Most cutting motions end in Pa. That's how the flow remains unbroken."
Park Seong-jin's eyes lit up.
"So it was the breathing."
"Yes."
Yi In-jung nodded.
"I learned it from a mountain hermit at Guwol Mountain. Want to try?"
He resumed his stance.His toes pressed lightly into the snow.
"Breathe in—Heup. Don't let the breath lodge in your chest. Send it downward."
"And pause briefly—Ji."
"Then release, without forcing—Pa."
Park Seong-jin followed exactly.He inhaled, paused, exhaled.
But already at the second step his chest tightened.
"Don't strain," Yi In-jung said, his voice low and firm."Breath is neither dragged in by force nor pushed out by force. The mind must rest first—then the breath finds its path."
Park Seong-jin bowed once, corrected his stance, and tried again.
Once more.And again.
Strangely, by the third attempt his body felt lighter.As the breath flowed evenly, the weight of the sword changed.
It no longer felt as though the blade were hanging from his hand,but as if it were resting atop his breath.
When the breath moved, the sword followed.When the sword stopped, the breath also grew still.
Yi In-jung nodded quietly.
"Yes. Like that."
He continued.
"Inhaling raises the sword.Exhaling lays it down.
Breath moves before the hand."
The frost settling on Park Seong-jin's brow melted away.He laughed softly, catching his breath.
"It's strange. It feels… less suffocating."
"Your body isn't what's less tense," Yi In-jung said."Your mind is."
He turned the sword once through the air.
"Martial practice is, in the end, the study of breath.When breath becomes even, the mind grows quiet.When the mind grows quiet, the blade also becomes calm."
With those words, the sword cut through the empty air.Morning light struck the blade and scattered.For a brief moment, the light spread like breath itself.
==---*
Park Seong-jin remained standing without releasing his stance.The sword was still in his hand, and his breathing continued evenly.
Yet something was different from before.
Though Yi In-jung had finished speaking, his body did not stop on its own.No—rather, it seemed to have lost any reason to stop.
Until now, he had been someone who learned the sword.He learned how to cut, how to survive, how to move so as not to die.He imitated others, chasing the backs of those who walked ahead.
But now, it was different.
Breath moved first, and the sword did not resist it.His body did not wait for commands.
It felt as though the blade itself was finding its own path.
So this… is teaching.
He realized suddenly that until this moment, he had only thought he was learning—he had never once entrusted himself.
He held the sword in his hand, yet in truth the sword had been dragging him along.Fear tightened his breath.The will to survive rushed ahead of his movement.
But just now—within the flow of Heup–Ji–Pa—he let go of the sword for the first time.
Letting go did not mean discarding it.
He released his will.He released his urgency.He released the thought that he had to do well.
In that moment, the sword did not grow heavier, nor lighter.It simply remained where it belonged.
Park Seong-jin's hand trembled, ever so slightly.Not from the cold.Not from the aftereffects of battle.
It trembled because he had come to understand breath.
He slowly sheathed the sword.Each motion was different from before.
Not hurried.Not excessive.And above all, not imitation.
Yi In-jung was watching him.He said nothing.
There was no need.
Sensing that gaze, Park Seong-jin quietly lowered his head.
It was neither a formal bow nor spoken thanks.
But within his heart, one phrase rang with clarity.
Thank you.